His Illegitimate Heir (15 page)

Fifteen

“W
here is she?”

The man Zeb had stopped—middle-aged, potbellied... He knew that he'd been introduced to this man before. Larry? Lance? Something like that. It wasn't important.

What was important was finding Casey.

“She's not here,” the man said, his chins wobbling dangerously.

Zeb supposed he should be thankful that, since Casey was one of exactly two women in the production department, everyone knew which “she” he was talking about.

“Yes, I can see that. What I want to know,” he said slowly and carefully, which caused all the blood to drain out of the guy's face, “is where she is now.”

It wasn't fair to terrorize employees like this, but dammit, Zeb needed to talk to Casey. She had stormed out of his house last night and by the time he'd gotten dressed, she had disappeared. She hadn't been at her apartment—the security guy said he hadn't seen her. In desperation, Zeb had even stopped by the brewery, just to make sure she wasn't tinkering with her brews. But the place had been quiet and the night shift swore she hadn't been in.

Her office was just as dark this morning. He didn't know where she was and he was past worrying and headed straight for full-on panic.

Which meant that he was currently scaring the hell out of one of his employees. He stared at the man, willing himself not to shake the guy. “Well?”

“She said she wouldn't be in today.”

Zeb took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”

He must not have been doing a good job at the whole “calm” thing, because his employee backed up another step. “Sometimes she takes off in the afternoon to go to a game. With her dad. But you wouldn't fire her for that, right?” The man straightened his shoulders and approximated a stern look. “I don't think you should.”

The game.
Of course—why hadn't Zeb thought of that? She had season tickets, right? She'd be at the game. The relief was so strong it almost buckled his knees.

“No, I'm not going to fire her,” he assured the guy. “Thanks for the tip, though. And keep up the good work.”

On the walk back to his office, he called up the time for the baseball game. Three o'clock—that wasn't her taking the afternoon off. That was her taking the whole day. Had he upset her so much that she couldn't even face him? It wasn't like her to avoid a confrontation, after all.

What a mess. His attempt at a marriage proposal last night had not been his best work. But then, he had no experience proposing marriage while his brain was still fogged over from an amazing climax. He didn't have any experience in proposing marriage at all.

That was the situation he was going to change, though. He couldn't walk away from her. Hell, he hadn't even been able to do that before she had realized she was pregnant. There was something about her that he couldn't ignore. Yes, she was beautiful, and yes, she challenged him. Boy, did she challenge him. But there was more to it than that.

His entire life had been spent trying to prove that he was someone. That he was a Beaumont, that he belonged in the business world—that he mattered, regardless of his humble origins or the color of his skin.

And for all that Casey argued with him, she never once asked him to be anyone other than himself. She accepted him as who he was—even if who he was happened to be a man who sometimes said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

He had made her a promise that he would take care of her, and by God, he was going to do that.

But this time, he was going to ask her how she wanted him to take care of her. Because he should have known that telling her what to do was a bad idea.

Ah, the seats behind hers were still available for this afternoon's game. Zeb bought the tickets.

He was going to do something he had never done before—he was going to take the afternoon off work.

* * *

“You want me to go get you some more nachos, honey?” Dad asked for the third time in a mere two innings.

Casey looked down at the chips covered in gloppy cheese. She was only kind of pregnant—wasn't it too soon for her stomach to be doing this many flips?

“I'm okay.” She looked up and saw Dad staring at her. He looked so eager that she knew he needed something to do. “Really. But I could use another Sprite.” Frankly, at this point, clear soda was the only thing keeping her stomach settled.

“I'll be right back,” Dad said with a relieved smile, as if her problems could all be solved with more food.
Men
, Casey thought with another grin after he was gone.

Whereas she had no idea what she could do to make this better. No, it wasn't the most mature thing in the world to have skipped work today. It was just delaying the inevitable conversation that she would have to have with Zeb at some point or another.

There had been a moment last night—the moment before the kiss—where he'd told her that he was going to take care of her. That had been what she wanted. Hadn't that been why she'd gone to her dad after she had stormed out of Zeb's house? Because she wanted someone to take care of her?

But it wasn't a fair comparison. Her father had known her for her entire life. Of course he would know what she wanted—wasn't that why they were at this game today? It wasn't fair for her to hope and hope and just keep on hoping, dammit, that Zeb would guess correctly. Especially not when he'd gotten so close. There
was
a big part of her that wanted him to take care of her.

There was an equally big part of her that did not want to quit her job and be a stay-at-home mom. What if he couldn't see that? He was a hard-driving businessman who wasn't used to taking no for an answer. What if she couldn't convince him that she would be a better mom if she could keep her job and keep doing what she loved?

She was keeping her eye on the ball when she heard someone shuffling into the seat behind her. By instinct, she leaned forward to avoid any accidental hot dogs down the back of her neck. But as she did so, she startled as a voice came low and close to her ear. “It's a nice afternoon for baseball, isn't it?”

Zeb.
She would recognize his voice anywhere—deep and serious, with just a hint of playfulness around the edge.

“Nice enough to skip work, even,” he added when she didn't manage to come up with a coherent response.

Okay, now he was teasing her. She settled back in her chair, but she didn't turn around and look at him. She didn't want to see him in the suit and she didn't want to see him in a T-shirt. So she kept her eyes focused on the game in front of her. “How did you find me?”

“I asked Larry. I should've figured it out by myself. You weren't at your apartment and you weren't at work.”

“I went home—I mean, my dad's home.”

“I upset you. I didn't mean to, but I did.” He exhaled and she felt his warmth against the back of her neck. “I shouldn't have assumed you would want to stay home. I know you and I know you're far too ambitious to give up everything you've worked for just because of something like this.”

Now she did twist around. Good Lord—he was wearing purple. A Rockies T-shirt and a Rockies hat.

“You blend,” she said in surprise. “I didn't think you knew how to do that.”

“I can be taught.” One corner of his mouth curved up in a small smile—the kind of smile that sent a shiver down her back. “I'm working on doing a better job of listening.”

“Really?”

“Really. I have to tell you, I was frantic this morning when I couldn't find you at work. I was afraid you might quit on me and then where would I be?”

“But that's a problem, don't you see? How am I going to do my job? How am I going to brew beer if I can't drink it?”

Zeb settled back in his seat, that half smile still firmly on his face. “One of the things I've learned during my tenure as CEO of the Beaumont Brewery is that my employees do not drink on the job. They may sample in small quantities, but no one is ever drunk while they're at work—a fact which I appreciate. And I've also learned that I have extremely competent employees who care deeply about our brewery.”

She stared at him in confusion. “What are you saying?”

He had the nerve to shrug nonchalantly. “I grew up in a hair salon, listening to women talk about pregnancies and babies and children. Obviously, we have to check with a doctor, but I think you taking a small sip every now and then isn't going to hurt anyone. And I don't want that to be the reason why you think you would have to leave a job you love.”

She began to get a crick in her lower back. “Why are you here?” Because he was being perfect again and when he was perfect, he was simply irresistible.

“I'm here for you, Casey. I screwed up last night—I didn't ask you what you wanted. So that's what I'm doing now. What do you want to do?”

She was only vaguely aware that she was staring at him, mouth wide-open. But this was
the
moment. If she didn't tell him what she wanted right now, she might never get another chance.

“Come sit by me,” she said. Obligingly, Zeb clambered down over the back of Dad's seat and settled in.

For a moment, Casey was silent as she watched the batter line out to right field. Zeb didn't say anything, though. He just waited for her.

“Okay,” she said, mentally psyching herself up for this. Why could she defend her beer and her employees—but asking something for herself was such a struggle?

Well, to hell with that. She was doing this. Right now. “It's hard for me to ask for stuff that I want,” she admitted. It wasn't a graceful statement, but it was the truth.

Zeb turned and looked at her funny. “You? Didn't you barge into my office and tell me off on my first day?”

“It's different. I defend my job and I defend my workers but for me to sit here and tell you what I want—it's...it's hard, okay? So just humor me.”

“I will always listen to you, Casey. I want you to know that.”

Her cheeks began to heat and the back of her neck prickled, but she wasn't allowing herself to get lost in the awkwardness of the moment. Instead, she forged ahead.

“The last time we were at a game together... I wanted you to tell me that I was beautiful and sensual and...and gorgeous. But it felt stupid, asking for that, so I didn't, and then after we...” She cleared her throat, hoping against hope that she hadn't turned bright red and knowing it was way too late for that. “Well, afterward, what you said made me feel even less pretty than normal. And so I shut down on you.”

Now it was his turn to stare at her, mouth open and eyes wide. “But...do you have any idea how much you turn me on? How gorgeous you are?”

God, she was going to die of embarrassment. “It's not that—okay, maybe it is. But it's that I've always been this tomboy. And when we were together in my kitchen, it was good. Great,” she added quickly when he notched an eyebrow at her. “But I don't want that to be all there is. If we're going to have a relationship, I need romance. And most people think I don't, because I drink beer and I watch ball games.”

She had not died of mortification yet, which had to count for something.

“Romance,” he said, but he didn't sound like he was mocking her. Instead, he sounded...thoughtful.

A small flicker of hope sparked to life underneath the heat of embarrassment. “Yes.”

He touched her then, his hand on hers. More heat. There'd always be this heat between them. “Duly noted. What else? Because I will do everything in my power to give you what you want and what you need.”

For a moment, she almost got lost in his gaze. God, those green eyes—from the very first moment, they had pulled her in and refused to let her go. “I don't want to give up my job. And I don't want to quit and go someplace else. I've worked hard for my job and I love it. I love everything about making beer and everything about working for the brewery. Even my new CEO, who occasionally sends out mixed signals.”

At that, Zeb laughed out loud. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends on the secret,” she said archly.

“Before I met you, I don't think I ever did anything but work. That's all I've known. It's all my mom did and I thought I had to prove myself to her, to my father—to everyone. I've been so focused on being the boss and on besting the Beaumonts for so long that...” He sighed and looked out at the game. But Casey could tell he wasn't seeing it. “That I've forgotten how to be me. Then I met you. When I'm with you, I don't feel like I have to be something that I'm not. I don't have to prove myself over and over again. I can just be
me
.” The look he gave her was tinged with sadness. “It's hard for me to let go of that—of being the CEO. But you make me want to do better.”

“Oh, Zeb—there's so much more to you than just this brewery.”

He cupped her face. “That goes for you, too—you are more than just a brewmaster to me. You are a passionate, beautiful woman who earned my respect first and my love second.”

Tears begin to prick at Casey's eyes. Stupid hormones. “Oh, Zeb...”

“There's something between us and I don't want to screw that up. Any more than I already have,” he added, looking sheepish.

“What do you want?” She felt it was only fair to ask him.

“I want to know my child. I want to be a part of his or her life. I don't want my child to be raised as a bastard.” He paused and Casey felt a twinge of disappointment. It wasn't like she could disagree with that kind of sentiment—it was a damn noble one.

But was it enough? She wanted to be wanted not just because she was pregnant but because she was... Well, because she was Casey.

But before she could open her mouth to tell Zeb this, he went on, “That's not all.”